Fantasy Bumbai Refugees Conquer a Pappistani Town [Naya Pappistan Series]

[one_sick_puppy]

OBLIGATORY AND OBVIOUS DISCLAIMER: This story is dedicated to dark and extreme fantasies about beautiful women of an imaginary kingdom. This is a very offensive erotica about inter-faith bang-fantasy, nation-play, faith-play, race-play, hate-fuck, impregnation, humiliation, cheating-wife, cuckoldry, male-domination, female-enslavement and similar nastiness. Emphasis on FANTASY. Everything on this story is fantasy, and doesn’t reflect my actual beliefs. They are not excuses to be racist, communal or misogynistic for real or to be just a shitty person in general. No harm is intended to anyone. None of the events, places, communities and characters exist in real life, and are all purely for the reader’s spicy, and kinky pleasure. These things are generally considered bad, so don’t do any of them. Don’t even watch porn about them, just read stories where no actual human being even has to pretend they are happening. Cool? This is a sexual fantasy that is hot in your head but never in reality. So don’t do them. Glad we had this chat.


If you are offended or under 18, I sincerely apologize and ask that you remove this page immediately.

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Namaste and salaam viewers, myself Ahmad Nawaz working as a reporter for PTV (Pappistan Television) News channel. Reporting live from Palochistan province of Naya Pappistan.

They had sent me to a small town in the Palochistan province to report on the waves of sanghi refugees immigrating from Ghindustan.

It was a small fishing village along the coast with probably 3,000 inhabitants. It had some of the most beautiful khwateen I had ever seen. It was an old town, and rumor had it that the Bughals had used it as one of their major strongholds and brought all of their beautiful hostages from all over Arab, Persia as well as Ghindustan. After copulating and breeding with the captive Buslimah and Ghindu slaves, they created a whole town full of beautiful women.

Currently, all of the men of the town seemed to be gone. After asking around I learned that the majority of the men in the villages worked on fishing boats, and they had gone on a week-long fishing expedition far off into the Arabian sea. That was how it was done here, boats full of fish were constantly coming and going, and every other month all of the men would go off on fishing expeditions, leaving their women behind.

On the same day that I arrived, a large cargo ship with a bhagwa flag pulled into port.

Standing there on the shore, I watched as the ship docked. Then a large ramp slowly dropped. A few seconds later came dozens of men with dark skin exiting the ship and walking onto the shore.

As they walked past me I snapped a few pictures. There were men of various ages, but the majority seemed to be unemployed youths. They all wore bhagwa-colored clothing and all seemed to be speaking in various Ghindustani languages.

I turned on my video camera and asked a few of them, "How was the trip from Bumbai?" "Are you glad to be in Pappistan?" general questions like that.

They were not very impressed by my presence and chose to ignore my questions.

Other bhagwadhari men who had not been on the boat showed up to greet them and began directing the new arrivals towards a large building near the beach. The big signboard on the building said “Ghindu Teerthayatri Nivas”. I joined the migrants.

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Once inside, I realized the ground floor of the multi-storied building was a large hall room. A wooden platform had been constructed on one side of the hall with a microphone and two large speakers. A man in traditional dhoti and upavita (sacred ***** thread) over his left shoulder stood on the platform waiting for all of the refugees to enter. He had a large graying beard, a hairy barrel-chest with tilaka marking on his forehead. The man seemed to be a pujari of the local Ghindu mandir. After the conquest of Pappistan, the installed Ghindutva government had gone on a spree of constructing mandirs in every town and village. It’s assumed there are more mandirs than mosques in Pappistan, although Buslims still made up the overwhelming majority.

As the room filled, I began counting heads, there were about eighty migrants from that Ghindustani ship.

Suddenly the pujari standing on the platform spoke into the microphone,

"Jai Shri Rwam! Welcome my Ghindustani brothers, welcome to Pappistan!"

Many of the migrants clapped, and others chanted back “Jai Shri Rwam!”.

"Brothers, you have been given a great opportunity, an opportunity to help create a whole new Ghindu nation, even more, a whole new superior sanskari race. Because, as you have probably heard, Pappistan is no longer breeding. Thanks to the brilliant plans of our ever so wise supreme leader Shri Lodiji, we have been successful in preventing Bussalman mards from impregnating their mleccha aurats. The ruling Ghindutva regime had decreed a ban on Pappistani katwe men preventing them from reproducing."

I was confused, "What is the pujari talking about?" I wondered.

Panditji continued,

"My sanghi brothers, the beautiful aurats in this town need you, all of Pappistan’s pakeezah aurats need you! Unlike the Bussalman naamard’s jheenga (shrimp) lulli, the sanskari mard’s uncut lund is bigger and stronger, his testicles are larger and heavier, and his veerya is fertile and more potent. Buslim men are weak and napunsak. Conquer the wombs of this town, convert the pakeezah aurats in to devadasis for Akhand Vwarat. Through their fertile wombs, you will take their Pappistani souls, but you must fill their kokhs with Ghindustani warrior babies."

I raised my camera and zoomed in closely on his face, there was not an ounce of humor in his expression. This was a scoop which I couldn’t pass up. I pressed on the recording button, and the video started being live streamed on PTV News facebook channel.

"Take their women, take them all, without permission, and with force if you must. Rip the burkhas off their biwis, unhook their beti's bra, strip their ammi’s naked, reach in and squeeze the pale succulent mleccha flesh, squeeze what you want, grab whatever you want, penetrate whichever love-hole you want, then establish Ghindurashtra deep inside their Bislamic whore bellies."

The migrant men were beginning to get excited. By their smiles and perverted hand gestures, they knew what direction this speech was going.

"This town is full of beautiful Bussalman aurats. Their breasts are very large, heavy and succulent with the capacity to nurse many sons, sons of Akhand Vwarat. Shree Bhanumaanji made the Bussalmaan whores of this town as beautiful as apsaras, because Ghindu men can not resist them, and they should not resist them. Remember, the place of the mleccha ladki is on her knees; submissive, passive, and willing. Go and give her orgasms, many of them, her orgasms will change Pappistan forever, will change the subcontinent forever, their moans of pleasure should and will be heard all across the world."

His voice was becoming very loud now.

"We will witness Akhand Vwarat coming to life. This new conquest of Naya Pappistan will not be by guns and swords, but by strong Ghindu veerya and by the orgasms of gori Bussalman aurats. Through pleasure, the streets of Akhand Ghindustan will be filled with virile sanskari warrior babies. The borders of Pappistan are open, and so are their aurat's legs. Make the Pappistani whores submit and obey. New traditions will be established. Mleccha women are whores anyway, filthy bang-meats, nothing but incubators for a new continent. Make it so pleasurable for them that after dumping your kattar sanskari seed deep into their unclean Bussalmani wombs they are left devoted to bringing Ghindu babies into the world. Your lunds are so much larger and thicker than what she is used to, victory will be so pleasant for her. It doesn’t matter whether she knows who the father is, as long as there is a sanskari child born out of every pakeezah kokh."

Suddenly he began shouting into the microphone at the top of his lungs, "Whores of Pappistan are waiting for you, now, right outside. Go get them! Take them, take what is rightfully yours! Pappistani pakeezahs belong to you, my sanghi brothers! Show those Bussalmani whores their place in the Ghindurashtra!"

“Akhand Vwarat ki…..” the pujari paused.

And the crowd roared, “Jai!”

With a triumphant yell, all the men shouted and raised their fists, then began running towards the main doorway. Out of the building they poured and towards the town they began to run.

I slowly followed them out into the bright sunlight.

[one_sick_puppy]

Turning towards the town, the closest houses were perhaps a quarter mile away. The backs of the eighty or so Ghindu refugees could be seen jogging toward them.

After a few moments, the excited jabbering and thumping feet from the refugees could no longer be heard. Standing close to the beach, I and the other Pappistani media guys stood there silently.

To say that the speech had given me an uneasy feeling would be a huge understatement. I felt nauseous, all of the life force seemingly draining from my body.

Turning towards the DRY News channel guy, "What was that all about?" I asked.

"They're doing this all over Pappistan." He said while raising his camera to take a few pictures of the migrants rushing towards the town full of beghums. "Young berozgaar men from all over Ghindustan are promised beautiful Pappistani aurats for shaadi if they get on these boats and immigrate to Pappistan. Looks like the sanghi refugees are getting exactly what they were promised."

"So what is going to happen once they make it into the village? All the men are far off in the sea, and that entire town is full of defenceless khwateins…." I asked.

The guy turned to me with a curious expression, "Well, you know very well what a pack of hungry wolves do when they find a herd of deers?"

"What do you mean? Mass bang? Hai khuda!" I was scared.

He turned away from me again, "Yes, there will be a lot of that. But a lot of our aurats will throw themselves at the feet of dominant kaffir muhajirs…"

Raising his camera again, he placed an eye behind it and adjusted the sights, "Don't get emotional about this, bhaijaan, it's none of our business anymore. Our beloved Pappistan had been conquered by Ghindustanis, they had defeated us thoroughly. The pakeezah khwateins of our vanquished nation belong to the Ghindu invaders now. The aurats of our families are treated as maal-e-ghanimat by Ghindu kaffirs."

I felt very depressed. What the DRY News reporter said was true, in every town of Pappistan it was happening. Ghindustani men were taking our women, sometimes by force, but usually without coercion because our submissive aurats are trained to surrender to dominating men. Now that the battle was over, it was the time for our women to pay the price. Our traditional Buslim families train the aurats of the family to be docile and submissive to men, from childhood. And the dirty Ghindus were reaping the benefits of the traditional upbringing of our obedient women.

I began walking towards town. None of the other media guys came with me, they chose instead to stay back by the beach, saying they had covered many such incidents across the country before. They said Ghindustan had been sending bang-armies to subjugate Pappistani women for a while now.

[one_sick_puppy]

I was on the same road the refugees had taken. Straight ahead I could see several houses.

Walking past closed stores and small restaurants, I continued to live stream.

Thinking I heard a distant scream, I stopped and cocked an ear to one side. But the sound did not come again, so I continued walking.

Looking ahead, I realized the houses were getting closer.

'What was happening in them?' I wondered, “The men of the village are far off in the sea, and the aurats are alone and vulnerable…”

In my mind's eye came visions of what I would find once I got there, and none of it was pretty.

Surely that pujari was wrong, that could not be happening, not in this day and age, it's not possible, the local security officer, the mawlanas and the dukaandars, they would never allow something like that.

Soon I arrived at the first house, and when I did, I heard it.

There is no mistaking the sounds of a woman being hard-fucked. Nothing in the world sounds like it, and immediately it grabs the attention of all who hear it.

The sound was coming from the first house.

The main door on the front porch stood open allowing me to enter. Walking up to the door, I stopped and looked in.

Right there on the floor, less than ten feet in front of me, was a large Ghindustani man, butt-nanga, fucking away on a nangi Bussalman aurat.

He was doing her missionary-style, his big Ghindu gaand thrusting down into her forcefully.

Her legs were up in the air and spread wide giving him plenty of access. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his muscular back, like a wrestler afraid too much distance between he and her opponent may cause her injury.

The Ghindustani’s big and thick lund was hammering in and out of her flowering choot. The Palochi woman continued to make a small sound on every stroke as his uncircumcised loda bottomed out in her tight phuddi.

Looking around the room, clothes were spread all over. The woman's white bra and panties, hijab and kurthis lay there in disarray as if they had been removed forcibly. No one else seemed to be in the house.

Looking down at the woman again, I could see her face quite clearly, her features were typical Palochistani; fair skin, high cheekbones, strong chin, strong jaw, big mummays, wide child-bearing hips.

The Palochistani aurat seemed unaware of my presence, her gaze remained directed into the ceiling. Clearly an orgasm was building in her; her eyes were widening, her mouth slowly opening. She had been making lustful noises for several minutes now, however, this would be her first real orgasm of the day.

The Ghindustani refugee sensed the orgasm, he probably felt her choot tightening around his invading lund, so he began fucking her even harder, in fact, he began fucking her harder than I had ever seen a woman fucked before.

[one_sick_puppy]

As the Ghindustani mard brutally pounded away on the Pappistani aurat's choot, waves of pleasure seemed to grip at her, every muscle in her body seemed to clench, even her toes curled.

I could hear the juice begin to squirt from her, with each thrust of the man's big Ghindu gaand came a juicy slapping sound like a dog lapping at a dish of water.

Staring intently at her pretty face, I watched as her mouth opened wide, about as wide as a mouth can open, but no sound uttered from it. She looked as if she were screaming at the top of her lungs, but the only sound in the room was the sound of her sloppy choot in rhythm with the man's body smacking into hers at an unbelievable fast rate of speed.

For another thirty seconds or so the climax rippled through her, then finally she exhaled in one long gasp which seemed to go on forever.

But just as she began to inhale air into her lungs again, the man's mouth opened wide and he began uttering hoarse gasps from it, clearly he was getting ready to cum.

This immediately grabbed the woman's attention and she began speaking to him. I don't speak Palochistani, but by her pleading expression I would guess she was begging him to refrain from cumming in her choot.

Pausing for a second, the man pulled his chest up and off the woman, I could see her front now, covered in sweat. She had a very nice rack of big safed mummays. The man placed the palms of his large hands on her mummays, and then he squeezed the two big orbs. After quickly repositioning his knees, he began fucking her again, just as hard as before.

It was not long before he was raising his face towards the ceiling like a wolf howling at the moon. Then he began to shout,

The Ghindustani rapist kept thrusting rhythmically, feeling her hole pulse around his fat lund. She writhed breathlessly, squirming under the stranger's assault, shaking her head no, no, no the whole time.

As I watched the fat, dark-brown lund invading the woman’s safed choot, I knew it was going to explode and I knew he was going to deposit it as deep inside her as possible, there was no pulling out now.

He forced her thighs wide open, slamming his entire length into her one last time. She screamed again, her eyes on his.

"Har Har Mahadevam! Jai Shri Rwam!"

With these words discharging from his mouth, and with his fingers digging deeply into her tit-flesh, the man's balls erupted forcefully, shooting ropes of Ghindustani sperm directly into her Pappistani defenceless cervix.

She closed her eyes, crying again, feeling the stranger inseminating her kokh.

The man continued to chant “Jai Shri Rwam!” as he continued to plough her unprotected womb with his meat-pipe, planting his Ghindustani fertilizer deep inside her.

Flooding the pakeezah kokh with thick ribbons of sanskari veerya, it seemed his prick throbbed and spurted for a full minute. She cried quietly while the last throbs of his potent fertilizer oozed into her. Surely she'd just been impregnated, she'd never before been filled so full, so deeply.

He grownled again, his lund still inside her, his head collapsed on her mummays.

With that, I clicked on the stop button on my video camera, ending the live-stream.

The pujari was right. The conquest of naya Pappistan is not done by guns and swords, but by uncircumcised lunds and testicles.

In Pappistan, women have always outnumbered men. So I assumed there were about 1600 helpless, unprotected and nubile Bussalman aurats available in this small fishing town. And that meant, each of these 80 Ghindustani sanghis would be able to enslave a minimum of 20 beautiful Pappistani wombs for his personal harem!

From what I’d witnessed today, there is surely going to be a population boom in this town. The sanghis will make sure to impregnate each of his 20 Buslimah fuck-slaves, planting Pappistani bellies with Ghindustani warrior baby boys.

So this is how the Ghindutva regime is planing to extinguish Bussalman men from Pappistan! They are outbreeding us, and our Buslimah khwatein are enabling the extinction of their own menfolk.